Chapter Text
Lex taps his pen against his desk restlessly. He nods along to what is being said to him, trying to maintain an air of authority when he feels close to dying of boredom. It’s another meeting about profit or stocks or whatever. Although Lex is proud of his company, he honestly couldn’t care less what goes on under his watch. All of his attention—by extension, all of his life—is devoted to Superman.
His eyes draw to the clock in the corner of the room, following the slow tick of the slim red hand. His foot taps in anticipation, the sound echoing through the room. His employee rattles on before him, nervous beyond comprehension and completely oblivious to Lex’s indifference.
When the clock’s hand strikes 7, Lex stands and offers the employee—John? Jonah?—a polite smile.
“Thank you for informing me,” Lex says, extending his hand. “I hate to rush you out, but I have some things to take care of right about now.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the employee stumbles out from his chair, returning his handshake with a sweaty grip. He gives a crooked smile and says, “Wouldn’t want to intrude on your time!”
“No worries,” Lex says, discreetly wiping his palm against his pant leg. He follows the employee to the doors of his office and gives him a slight nod to thank him again. Really, he doesn’t remember a single point he made, but it’s his job to keep up appearances more than anything. He has more important matters beneath the surface, but most of Luthorcorp doesn’t know that.
Ultraman is already stationed outside when Lex opens the doors. Lex smiles in satisfaction at his obedience. His heart gives an embarrassing flutter when the clone’s head turns to face him. His confident smile falters slightly with the way his breath hitches. He shouldn’t be doing this.
“Ultraman,” he says steadily for the employee to hear, “right on time. Come in, have a seat.”
The doors swing closed behind him, and his hands go to undo his tie. They stop short, however, as he remembers what it feels like to be clothed before a stripped Superman. Pure and raw power. Lex’s hands instead go to his pockets as he leans against his desk, surveying the man—alien before him.
Ultraman sits down in the chair across from Lex’s desk. He’s wearing his mask as always, but Lex can already see the look on his face beneath it. He can practically feel the alien’s tongue down his throat.
Christ, he needs to calm down.
Ultraman clasps his hands together, awaiting a command from Lex. Lex laughs softly, looking down at the clone with hooded eyes.
“You don’t really need to have a seat, you oaf. It’s just a show for the employees.”
Ultraman nods slowly, turning over his words for a command. When he finds none, he simply goes still and stares up at Lex.
Lex rolls his eyes, wondering why he puts up with blatant disrespect. He’s just like the real Superman. Idiotic and untamed.
But Lex can change that. He intends to perfect a way of controlling Superman, and as he learned last week, this might be the way to go. He’s gone through so much work and strategy to try and find a way to take him down in the battlefield—who knew all he needed to do was strip him down and make him obey?
“Stand up—and mask off,” Lex says, straight faced. This is for research purposes, he reminds himself. No need to enjoy it so thoroughly. Have some restraint, Luthor.
He doesn’t exactly listen to his own advice when he steps closer to a now standing Ultraman and places a hand on his broad chest. Lex studies his own hand for a moment, keeping it still. He moves his gaze up slowly to look Ultraman in the eye. He should be repulsed by the alien’s height over him, but it really just makes him feel all the more powerful. An extraterrestrial being, larger than life and stronger than imagination, is standing here, completely at Lex Luthor’s mercy. And Lex has no intentions of exercising mercy.
His hand travels up Ultraman’s chest and settles at the back of his neck. His long hair obscures Lex’s hand from view, and Lex has to bite back a groan at the memory of tugging it. He’ll have plenty of opportunities tonight—no need to get worked up.
Lex leans in slowly, tasting Ultraman’s breath on his tongue before their lips even touch. In fact, he doesn’t move to kiss him yet. He turns his head just before meeting Ultraman’s, and instead lets himself soak up the feeling of being in his air. Ultraman exhales softly as Lex’s free hand snakes around his waist. Lex is in control here, and there’s nothing Ultraman can do about it. Heat coils in Lex’s gut.
Ultraman’s strong hands go to Lex’s hips, and then wrap around him at the waist. Lex is pulled closer into Ultraman’s air, making him smile against the clone’s cheek.
“Eager, are we?” Lex whispers, stroking his thumb up and down Ultraman’s neck. He’s being a hypocrite, though, because he can already feel his erection growing in his pants.
Ultraman breathes out and leans into Lex’s touch, nuzzling his cheek against his. He’s so obedient that way—and Lex loves it with all his being. It’s positively disgusting.
Lex lifts his head slightly and revels in Ultraman’s head following, chasing the touch.
“Patience, my dear,” Lex says, planting a kiss on Ultraman’s cheek. He feels the clone shudder beneath him and continues kissing down his face and along his jaw. With his eyes closed, he imagines he’s dragging his lips across Superman’s face. He allows the fantasy to spill into his assessment of the situation yet again and opens his eyes to a flushed Superman.
Lex’s lips capture Superman’s in a kiss, and he swears the whole world melts away. It’s pure lust and hatred and obsession all combined in the way his lips open and close against Superman’s. The alien’s lips move in sync with Lex’s, following his movements like they’re direct commands.
(Surely this will be useful if he ever needs to shut Superman up, because the clone seems about ready to pass out already.)
Lex pulls Superman closer by the waist and begins steering them to a wall. The closest empty one he can find is positioned conveniently close to the doors, allowing him to briefly remove his hand from Superman’s neck to lock them. All thoughts of restraint in Lex’s head have vanished without warning.
His hand returns immediately to Superman’s scalp and buries itself in the curls as they kiss. The alien’s body is flush against his now against the wall, and Lex can’t get enough: He tries to push closer despite Superman already being pinned against his office wall. Lex’s tongue prods impatiently at the alien’s partially open lips. It takes him only a moment to understand the action and part his lips for Lex to enter. He presses himself closer in desperation, trying to take all of Superman’s air and suffocate him with his need.
It’s how he’s felt since the red-and-blue clad idiot showed up. Breathless. It wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, so why should it be for this freak of nature?
Lex’s left hand slides up Ultraman’s suit and claws at his back. He lets out a gasp that is swallowed in Lex’s kisses but returned before he can think better of it. Lex’s nails scrape down the alien’s indestructible back and trail down to grab at his ass. Superman gasps again, letting the kiss falter as he tilts his head back. The trail of saliva that connects Luthor’s lips to his breaks as he begins kissing his jaw again. He allows his teeth to slip out and bite the Kryptonian as he leaves imaginary marks down his neck.
The hand Lex has placed on Superman’s ass slides further down until he’s grasping his thigh. He lifts it and pulls Superman’s leg up to hook around his waist, bringing him ever closer. Lex’s other hand goes to Superman’s forehead, pushing his hair back. He studies his face for a moment, mouth slightly open. He licks his lips once before diving back into the kiss.
Superman lets out a muffled squeak that would be cute if it didn’t make Lex want to tear him apart. He pulls his hair with a vigor, trying to make it hurt for the alien. It tastes like victory when Superman’s tongue meets his and his body shakes. Superman lets out a whine that worsens the bulge in Lex’s pants and encourages him to shove his tongue further into the alien’s mouth.
Lex’s thigh slots between Superman’s legs, drawing another moan from his mouth. Lex savors it on his tongue before pulling away for some much-needed air. He draws his leg away for a moment, watching the disappointment on Superman’s flushed face. He licks his lips clean of Superman’s saliva and watches the alien's eyes flick down to track the movement.
Before he can stop himself, Lex dives back in and kisses Superman again. His head hits the wall with the force of Lex’s movement, and Lex swallows down the gasp that results from it. He wants to consume Superman whole. He wants to steal all of the air from his lungs and leave him with nothing. He wants to tear him down and hear him beg for mercy.
His thigh goes back to Superman’s crotch, his erection digging into the fabric of Lex’s pants. It’s assuring to know he’s as close to breaking as Lex is, and it’s especially rewarding to see Superman coming apart where he stays calm. Well, as calm as he can be as the alien’s tongue explores his mouth.
It’s just as hot as the first time. Lex could get carried away just as soon as he had before, but he decides to control himself slightly. He’s going to make Superman beg for it—and he’s not going to give himself any release anytime soon. Tonight is for seeing Superman unravel.
Lex removes his mouth from Superman’s and licks a stripe down his neck. The alien tenses under his touch, and—if Lex isn’t mistaken—squirms for more. His mouth falls open as he takes deep, steadying breaths. His hips press forward for more friction against Lex’s leg—or maybe for release, which Lex can’t allow.
Lex’s thigh moves from between Superman’s, drawing a delightful whine from his mouth. It’s enough to make Lex finish on the spot.
But he doesn’t. Lex removes himself from Superman almost entirely, except for a hand on his neck and his face a breath away from the Kryptonian’s.
“Take it off,” Lex pants, his breath hot against Superman’s lips, “all of it.”
He pulls away, letting his hand brush down Superman’s chest before being removed. He steps back and admires the swift movements of his plaything, his bulky suit stripping away to reveal a pale expanse of skin. Lex can’t bring himself to look away. He should have some decency, obviously, but the sight of Superman’s cock springing free and hitting his stomach is too much to miss out on.
Lex draws in a deep breath and straightens his tie, trying to stop himself from lunging forward and taking Superman on the floor.
(Although, he still thinks that might be fun to try. Maybe next time.)
After a moment of admiring the Kryptonian’s bare form, Lex strolls forward again, almost casually, and puts his hand beneath Superman’s chin. The alien glances down at his open palm, then back up again into Lex’s eyes, not understanding. Lex rolls his eyes.
“Spit,” he says.
Superman does so almost instantly, lowering his head to let a trail of saliva drip into Lex’s hand. It's perverse, and it’s frankly disgusting, but Lex feels himself growing harder regardless. He has the Man of Steel before him, naked and following his perverted instructions like gospel. It’s incredible.
Lex hopes one day, for the sake of the world, that society will someday realize that this is the true Superman. Not the arrogant, cheerful oaf who parades around Metropolis stealing the hearts of anyone who sees him. Superman is this; dirty and weak. He is beneath Lex’s heel—brain over brawn. His displays of power mean nothing to who he really is. A slut.
Lex’s slut, he thinks, but shuts the thought down as quickly as it appears. That’ll only be true if—when—he gets the real thing.
Lex moves his hand to Superman’s dick, gently spreading the spit up and down to relieve them both of the painful friction. Superman’s tip leaks precome, which Lex gathers with his thumb to further slick down his length. His hand moves smoothly now, drawing an array of sounds from the Kryptonian. He doesn’t watch his hand anymore, instead looking up at Superman’s flushed face.
He’s pathetic, as always. He watches Lex’s hand moving with hopeful eyes, a clear need for more reflecting in his open mouth and shallow breaths. Lex knows he’s imagining being sucked off, or something of the sort, but he should know better than to imagine that. He’s here to serve Lex, not the other way around.
His wrist twists sharply going down as punishment for the unruly thoughts Lex knows he’s having, earning a gasping whine from the alien. He does it again for good measure, this time his own moan echoing Superman’s.
Lex could come untouched from this piece of shit. He moans like a pornstar, writhing and shaking against Lex’s body with each small movement of his hand. Lex drinks up the noises he makes, moving his hand faster to get them breathier and more desperate.
Superman groans, deep and loud, encouraging Lex’s movements. He goes faster, just to watch his eyes flutter closed and his head fall back against the wall. He’s an animal, how he thrusts into Lex’s hand. It’s dirty, and Lex couldn’t be harder watching it. The tent in his pants is painful.
Still, he focuses on Superman; bringing him to the edge, then cutting off the pleasure. He does this a few times, swiping his thumb over the tip and jerking his hand up and down until Superman’s thighs shake, then releasing his hand. He plays with fire, seeing how close he can get Superman to coming in his fist without really letting him.
Lex is panting now, too, just at the sight of the alien’s open mouth and his needy movements. It’s dirty—and it’s completely unlike Luthor. But still, he leans forward and bites Superman hard just above his collarbone, pumping his fist like his life depends on it—just to be rude. Superman writhes and cries, pushing against him.
“Lex,” Superman whimpers, “please.”
It’s the first words he’s spoken all night—completely unprompted. Lex’s hand stops short. The sound of Superman’s whining echoes in his ears. His dick strains in his fist, and he bucks his hips uselessly. Lex wasn’t planning on letting him finish like this, anyways, but it’s still rewarding to see him grapple with the sudden loss of touch.
“Lex,” he says, his voice low. He needs Lex badly, and they both know it.
“I know, I know,” Lex says, smiling. He smears his hand down Superman’s chest, cleaning his hand. He looks Superman in the eye and says, “I’m a monster, aren’t I?”
Superman says nothing, only eyes him with the anger that Lex asked of him last time.
Lex leans forward in the suggestion of a kiss, but as Superman returns the movement, he bites his lower lip. The alien only whines defeatedly, opening his mouth and tilting his head to allow Lex more room. Lex takes the welcome gratefully, trying to suffocate Superman with his kiss. It’s a hopeless cause, but he tries anyway.
His hands grip Superman’s waist, and he imagines his nails leave marks. Lex slowly walks them back, away from the wall. Superman’s hands are warm at his neck, clinging to him like the obedient animal he is—desperate for someone to serve.
Lex knows his office well enough not to trip over anything on his way to his destination, but the Kryptonian in his arms stumbles a bit as he leads them, eyes closed, to the couch.
He turns them both suddenly, lets go of Superman, and shoves him down onto the couch. He doesn’t make much noise, only a confused hum as he looks up at Lex.
Lex is suddenly overwhelmed with desire, seeing this freak of nature lying on his couch, waiting for his touch. He shuffles back a bit, unprompted, letting Lex’s eyes rove over his body like a hungry animal. He wants Superman dead.
Lex unbuckles his belt slowly, stalking towards the couch. “This is all you’re good for, remember that.” He tilts his chin back, looking down his nose at the Kryptonian. “You’re pathetic, Superman.”
Superman gives a small, almost sheepish nod, and scoots further back, allowing Lex to climb onto the edge of the couch and look down at him. Lex’s knees dig into the couch as he admires the alien set out before him.
His dick springs from his boxers when freed, betraying his cool demeanor. He’s just as needy as the alien, but he didn’t need to put that on display.
Superman’s legs are spread wide, and his hands are at his sides, not yet gripping the fabric of the seat. Lex can change that. In fact, he plans on it.
Lex reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a bottle of lube and a condom. He tears the packet with his teeth and rolls it on, hissing at the cool sensation. No being reckless tonight, he scolds himself. Lex Luthor doesn’t recklessly spill into a dangerous alien. He has more class than that—at least, tonight he does.
Superman’s eyes follow his actions, his face neutral, expectant. Lex thinks he looks best like this—ready to obey him, completely at the will of his superior.
The alien’s cock is still red and straining from Lex’s hand a minute ago, resting against his stomach like an offering.
Lex warms the lube between his fingers and massages Superman’s inner thigh with his other hand, delighting in the small tremors that shake him each time he gets close to touching him. The Kryptonian’s hips lift like Lex told them to, lazily dropping back down with a whine when Lex removes his hand.
He gives a tsk tsk and says, “Patience, alien.”
“Yes, Lex,” Superman responds, making Lex’s dick jump. He doesn’t quite understand how this creature can excite him like this, but he isn’t really looking to think too hard tonight. He’s here to feel good.
Lex brings his slick fingers to massage Superman’s hole, watching it clench around nothing. His mouth falls slightly open, his work clothes suddenly feeling like walls closing in on him. He’s being suffocated by the sight of Superman’s trembling thighs and his tightly shut eyes.
Lex hasn’t even entered him yet, and he’s acting like this. His fingers only tease his entrance, but don’t venture beyond it. And, still, Superman’s neck is exposed from throwing his head back.
Luthor leans forward above the alien, holding himself up with one hand and slowly pushing inside him with the other. Superman gasps, his eyes still clamped shut.
“Look at me,” Lex commands, waiting until Superman’s soft blue eyes meet his to push his fingers in. He gasps, a breathy moan punctuating Lex’s second finger disappearing into him.
His fingers curl to pet his insides, bringing out a groan from the alien beneath him. Lex leans down further to hear him clearer, sucking imaginary marks into Superman’s neck.
He pulls off with a smack of his lips, moving his fingers faster and harsher as he speaks, “Maybe next time I’ll have you finger yourself while I watch,” Lex scissors his fingers and savors the moan Superman lets out. He’s found the spot already—it wasn’t even his goal this time. He’s breathless when he says, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Superman’s whimpers are answer enough. Of course this slut would like that—he’s desperate to please Lex. The imaginary scenario makes Luthor impossibly harder as he slips his fingers in and out of Superman’s hole. It’s less about prep now than it is making him squirm and cry out for Lex to please, go faster.
With each jab of his fingers, Lex grows more and more impatient with himself. He wants to get drunk off of Superman’s gasps as he hits the spot that makes him writhe, but it’s even more enticing to leave him whining and begging for more. He’s stuck between getting off on giving Superman what he wants or withholding it from him. Nearly impossible to choose, he thinks.
Lex removes his fingers with a wet sound, and swallows Superman’s consequential groan with a searing kiss. He tries to suffocate him for a brief minute, holding his jaw with the hand that was just inside Superman. He backs off, leaving only his hand to tilt his head back.
“No complaining, sweetheart,” Lex says, utterly disgusted with himself. “You’re gonna take me how I want, alright?”
Lex moves his hand to force Superman into a puppeteered nod, but through the movement he can tell he’s already nodding. Lex smiles wickedly, already shifting back and grabbing Superman by his ankle.
He lifts his leg swiftly, hooking it over Lex’s shoulder to allow himself more room. If he’s gonna fuck this piece of shit, he’s gonna make it humiliating for him. He’s gonna fuck this Kryptonian within an inch of his life.
“Other leg,” Lex says, barely a purr. Superman obliges, hooking his ankles together over Lex’s shoulders. It’s a demeaning position, but Superman doesn’t look that ashamed. In fact, he looks a little smug. Lex is getting worked up untouched, and he thinks he’s winning. Lex can’t have that.
Lex holds himself above Superman with one hand, but uses the other to align himself with the alien’s entrance. He’s continuously surprised that his dick isn’t barbed or something of the sort, but that will just make it all the more rewarding to see him come like he’s at Lex’s level—like he’s a human.
Luthor pushes the head in slowly, cautiously, even though he knows caution is the last thing Superman deserves. He’s impossibly tight and warm around him even then, just at the beginning. Lex thinks he hears a please pass through Superman’s lips.
He lets out a held breath after a few seconds stretch by, and tries moving again. This time it’s easier, with the slickness of the lube out there by Lex. He’s about halfway inside when he notices Superman’s hand firmly wrapped around his own dick.
Lex moves without thinking and grabs for Superman’s hand, unintentionally pushing fully inside him so that their hips meet. They moan in unison—part pain, part pleasure. It’s not good enough to distract Lex from his goal, however, as he grabs Superman’s wrists and pins them above his head.
“No touching yourself,” Lex growls, his hips rocking slowly. Superman feels so good around him—shit—but he can’t let him feel good without it being at Lex’s hand. He thrusts a bit harder when he says, “Got it?”
Superman nods in a daze and tries lifting his hips. Lex stops him with a hand to his stomach and says, “Do you understand?”
The Kryptonian whines, “Yes.”
“Try ‘yes, sir.’”
“Yes, sir,” Superman moans, and is rewarded with a deep thrust of Lex’s hips. The title on his lips is like heaven to Luthor—he finally gets to see Superman beneath him in every sense, being the pathetic creature he’s meant to be. It sets something ablaze in Lex, and suddenly he can’t stop moving his hips.
Superman cries out something that sounds suspiciously like Lex’s name, and throws his head back. Lex’s hand goes back to holding Superman’s wrists in place, while the other dives in to grip his hair. He’s hunched over the alien, driving deep into him with each calculated thrust.
Lex makes use of the hand in his hair and pulls, eliciting a sweet yelp of pain that quickly dissolves into the cacophony of thoughtless moans Superman lets out.
He pulls out almost completely before drilling back in, gasping for air as Superman’s moaning hits his ears. It’s a beautiful sound with an even better view—this supposed golden boy spread and squirming beneath him, showing how dirty he truly is. Lex could stare for hours.
“Ah, ah—Lex!” Superman whimpers, his voice low and needy. It’s all Lex could ever need.
Lex’s hand removes itself from Superman’s hair and goes to his open mouth. His forefingers push past his plush lips and swirl around for a moment, feeling the pressure of the alien’s tongue explore the intruders.
He removes them with a pop and trails his hand down to Superman’s chest, not stopping his hips movements while doing so.
His fingers find Superman’s nipple and twist harshly. The alien yelps, high pitched and pathetic. Lex bites his collarbone for good measure, then lifts his head to watch him in all his glory.
His hips meet Lex’s with every thrust, jittery and desperate. His eyes are wide and dilated, flicking between Lex’s hips flush against his and Lex’s concentrated face. His hands clench where they’re held above his head, restless and needy for some purchase.
And, God, his dick. It’s prettier than any Lex has ever seen—veiny and thick. Lex would be happy to take it in his mouth, if he’s being honest with himself, but there’s no chance in Hell that he’d give up his control to this monster. He’ll never relent his power over him—though, it’s quite a shame that such a pretty cock will go unused.
Lex’s movements are growing a bit frantic, too, as he grits his teeth and tries not to cry out too loud.
He’s aiming for that spot within Superman’s tight walls, he knows, but it’s still a surprise when he hears the guttural groan the alien lets out that signifies he's hit it.
A wave of lust suddenly hits Lex as Superman shakes from the sensation. His hips have stopped moving from the shock of the noise, but as soon as they halted, they start moving again at a frantic pace.
Lex dips his head down to kiss Superman sloppily along his jaw, moaning slightly when the Kryptonian’s lips find his. They gasp into each others mouths like animals, writhing and panting and sharing the same hot breath. Lex bites down on his jaw hard, trying to draw his name from his mouth.
Superman groans, hips thrusting almost harder than Lex’s. He’s desperate for release, Lex can tell, and he can admit he’s not far from finishing either.
The alien kisses him where he can reach, moaning breathily with each prod of his nipple.
“Good boy.” Lex says, his eyes closed in pure pleasure. “You’re doing—ah—great, gorgeous.”
“Ah—ah… please, Lex,” the alien moans, breaking Lex’s concentration and snapping his eyes open. His hands are straining hard against Lex’s, and although he can get out at any moment, he doesn’t. He’s obedient. He’s Lex’s.
“So, so good for me…” Lex says in a daze, his hand leaving Superman’s nipple and moving to his dick. The Kryptonian gasps when Lex’s cool hand wraps around the base.
His hand jerks rapidly, his thrusts in time with his pumps of Superman’s dick. Lex can hear Superman’s cries and can see him writhing desperately, but he’s so lost in the pleasure he feels as if he’s watching from another room.
The Man of Steel is here, beneath him, begging for Lex to touch him. Lex’s hand moves faster. Harder. His hips move and move and move and they don’t stop. He can hear Superman pleading for something, but he doesn’t listen. His hand doesn’t slow down, even with the relative dryness of Superman’s dick. He just moves, following his pleasure, chasing it, and then—
Superman cries out like he’s been hit by something, and suddenly white is shooting out of his dick, across his chest, and on his couch. His hips lift in a final arch, and his head falls back uselessly.
Lex bends forward and kisses Superman, hard, chasing his orgasm.
“Say my name,” Lex says breathlessly, hips moving for his very life. Superman’s walls clench around him and trap him inside. “Beg for me.”
“Lex, please, Lex—“ is all Superman has time to say before Lex is spilling, too. He comes like he never has before, messy and dirty and dangerous. Inside of Superman. The Man of Steel is filled with him.
He lets himself fall forward, boneless and sweaty, onto Metropolis’ golden boy. Come sticks between them, cooling and sticky and utterly unpleasant. But Lex can’t get himself to move—not when Superman is folded in half, still taking his dick after they’ve both finished.
Lex groggily lifts his head to check his watch, and groans at the result. He has another meeting in half an hour. If he would’ve been more careful with his time, he could’ve avoided this, but he truly can’t say he’s regretful for any of this.
He pulls out slowly, realizing his mistake. Ultraman’s come is smeared all across the front of his vest. He nearly gags at what he’s done, and quickly unfastens the buttons while Ultraman lazily sits up.
He throws the come-stained vest in Ultraman’s direction and runs his hands over his face. Fuck. He just wasted company time having sex with his clone of Superman.
Jesus Christ, he’s in deep. There’s no going back from this.
Luthor rolls the condom off of his dick and tosses it into the trash bin beside his desk. None of his janitorial employees will notice it, and if they do, they’re too well paid to care.
Lex tucks himself back into his boxers, then refastens the buttons of his pants. He clears his throat and tries his best to cool down. He turns to look at Ultraman with the vest held carefully in his hands, feeling disgusted with himself.
He swallows once, then says, "There are cleaning supplies in the cabinet in the corner. When I get back my couch better be spotless and my vest the same, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” Ultraman says, standing up, his body on full display under the fluorescent lights.
Lex’s cheeks flush again and his dick gives a lazy twitch at the words.
“And put your goddamn clothes back on.”
Ultraman glances down at his naked body, then back up at Luthor. He sticks his hand out in a dopey thumbs up.
Lex thinks he might have to kill this clone, too.